Twilight's Falling
by TaleWeaver
Summary: AU. A trilogy of tales adapted from episodes of The Twilight Zone, starring Jesse St. James, Finn Hudson, and Rachel Berry.
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: Twilight's Falling

AUTHOR: TaleWeaver

FANDOM: Glee/The Twilight Zone

DISCLAIMER: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk and Ian Brennan, and FOX studio, with blink-and-miss-them references to some of my other fandoms. Lyrics featured from 'Don't rain on my parade' from the musical 'Funny Girl', 'More than you know' from 'Funny Lady', and 'Rolling in the Deep' by Adele. Stories adapted from episodes written by Earl Hamner Jr (Ring-a-ding Girl), Alan Brennert and Parke Godwin (Time and Teresa Golowitz) and Jill Blotevogel (Night Route). No profit is being made from this work, and no copyright infringement is intended.

SPOILERS: For the Twilight Zone episodes 'Ring-a-ding Girl', 'Time and Teresa Golowitz' and 'Night Route'.

RATING/WARNING: PG-13. Swearing, sexual references, supernatural themes and character death, including mentions of suicide.

PAIRING: Main pairing is Finn/Rachel. Featuring Jesse & Rachel friendship and minor Jesse/Rachel.

SUMMARY: (AU) A trilogy of tales adapted from episodes of The Twilight Zone, starring Jesse St. James, Finn Hudson, and Rachel Berry.

**Act One: Catch a Falling Star**

_**Broadway star Jesse St. James is making a visit to the hometown – and the girl – he left behind.**_

Jesse St. James couldn't look around for more than a few feet without it being shouted to his eyes.

LIMA FOUNDER'S DAY CELEBRATIONS!

At least one in three signs announced the picnic in two days' time. It was the traditional (God, he hated that word!) kickoff to the Founder's Day Celebrations, which lasted a full week.

Jesse couldn't help but sigh, as a dozen memories crossed his mind. The Founder's Day Picnic was one of the major events of Lima, NY's social calendar (what there was of it). In most of the old families, you weren't allowed to miss it unless you were in jail or dead.

He had hated almost every moment of growing up in this one-horse town. But he did have some good memories of the FD Picnics.

Most of the other good memories were centered around one person; the very same person he was about to see in the flesh for the first time in three years.

On the steps of the Lima Civic Center, Jesse looked down his body to give himself a final inspection. His black linen pants were unwrinkled, and his dress boots were clean. His dark red Egyptian cotton shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, was immaculate. Frowning, he reached behind his neck to adjust the drape of the silver chain. The pendant that hung from the chain rested just below his collarbone; it was a thick-rimmed circle, with an inner ring of tiny claws that held a flat, thumb-sized disc of obsidian, jet black and mirror-bright. It had been Rachel's last gift to him.

Satisfied with his appearance, Jesse walked through the front doors of the centre, and headed straight to the auditorium. He'd checked the Founder's Day website, and knew that this year the concert was being rehearsed to the point of exhaustion, thanks to its new director.

Jesse was a little surprised to find he still knew almost every inch of the place by heart; he slipped in by the side entrance that was hardly ever used, and seated himself a few rows behind the director's desk.

Seated at the desk was his childhood friend and ex-lover, Rachel Berry.

Her hair was as dark as he remembered, but it was longer now, almost to the middle of her back. She'd worn the same style back in high school, and Jesse frowned at her choosing to grow out the shorter, more sophisticated style she'd worn in college.

Growing up, they'd lamented being born in Beantown – as they'd called it – and spent hours talking about how they'd take Broadway by storm. They'd started dating in high school, then became lovers, at least partly because they were both terrified that a relationship with someone who wasn't equally as determined to leave this place would trap them here. He could admit that, now.

It wasn't that Rachel wasn't attractive. Dark-haired and eyed, Rachel's Jewish nose set off her looks, rather than distracted from them, and her body was slim and graceful - tiny and light, like a fairy. Their first co-starring roles together had been in this very theater, as Peter Pan and Tinkerbell. He'd always thought her lovely, but years after their breakup he had the perspective to admit he'd never thought she was **hot **– not the way that idiot from her synagogue with the afro and the glasses always thought.

It was the Jewish guilt that had destroyed her dreams, though. She'd been halfway through her junior year at Carnegie-Mellon (much as she longed for New York City, she had to go where the scholarship money was) when her Dad had been diagnosed with cancer. Her other father was still frail from the heart attack he'd suffered a year earlier, and Rachel had only gone back to school after that because they'd both asked her to. They could have coped without her; Lima was nothing if not tight-knit, and her fathers had a large circle of friends who would have happily pitched in. But Rachel refused – this was her family, and she would care for it.

It was probably Rachel's determination, as much as any medical treatment, which enabled Leroy Berry to survive the cancer. It had still been a long recovery, though, compounded by the continuing frailty of her other parent. Rachel had known what leaving college meant; it would doom her to suffocate in this place forever. Their love affair had long since atrophied, but their friendship remained strong – but not strong enough to allow him to talk her out of her incredible, foolish sacrifice. When she told him to graduate from UCLA and head to Broadway without her, she'd looked like Ophelia, letting herself be dragged beneath the currents of the river simply because she had no will left to live.

She was twenty-five years old, but even from behind her in the semi-darkness, Jesse could see she looked drained. As if some essential spark of life had ebbed away.

For God's sake, she was **directing **the concert! She'd do a superb job of course, but backstage? They'd been in the Founder's concert since they were old enough to understand stage directions, but they'd never been given a full solo number, because of all the adults who wouldn't give up their split second in the spotlight to someone obviously far more talented.

"For God's sake, people, look alive!" Rachel said into the microphone. "Take five and drink a Red Bull or something!"

As the assembled group on stage filled off stage, Rachel slumped back in her chair and gave the 'I'm-surrounded-by-idiots' sigh Jesse was so familiar with, and it warmed his heart. At least she hadn't completely given in to Lima's collective drive to mediocrity.

"Hello, Rachel."

Rachel actually jumped to her feet, almost getting caught up in the director's desk, gaping at him gratifyingly.

"J... Jesse?"

"None other," he smiled back.

He stood up and moved to meet her, and no more words needed to be said.

She threw herself into his open arms, and they hugged like long-lost family.

"So, how goes the concert?" Jesse asked an hour later, over vegetarian pizza.

Rachel sighed. "They're trying hard, I'll give them that. But there isn't a person in the cast with a real spotlight voice. I've had to arrange three-part harmonies for almost every song."

Jesse looked down to hide his smile. This just might be easier than he thought.

"Well... I have an idea."

Rachel looked at him brightly and expectantly, and Jesse couldn't stop the smile, now. She was so eager!

"What if I performed at the concert?"

Rachel gaped even more than she had when she first saw him.

"What? Jesse, why...?"

"But we'd have to start the concert at noon."

"Wait, the picnic starts at 11:30 – the council will never agree to it!"

"Oh, come on. So you have the tug of war an hour later!" Jesse shrugged. Rachel still looked doubtful, and Jesse's face darkened for a moment, looking almost pained, before offering, "The concert's still a major fundraiser, right? What sort of turnout do you think we'd get if I offered to perform for free?"

"Full house," Rachel answered instantly.

"It has to be then, Rachel – I don't have a lot of time here. Not only will I perform for free, but I'll stream the concert live on my website – how do you think the council will like seeing themselves on TV?"

Rachel smiled, slow and sure. "You know perfectly well what a publicity whore Councilwoman Sylvester is."

Jesse's smirk matched hers. "My YouTube channel is in the top seventy-five subscriber's channels, and I have three million followers on Twitter. If I bring the audience, I get to pick the time."

"I'll see what I can do," Rachel laughed.

"One more thing, Rach – I want you performing too."

Rachel's eyes widened, and she gasped.

"I want you to open the concert, and then you'll back me on the songs I sing. No question."

"Jesse..." Rachel murmured.

"Don't even dream about telling me you're out of practise – you sing like you **breathe**, Rachel. This will open doors for you, and I want to be the one escorting you through them."

Rachel bit her lip, and Jesse let his heart's wish spill.

"I really want to sing with you again, Rachel. Just once more."

"I want that too, Jesse. More than almost anything," Rachel smiled sadly.

Two days later, after a whirlwind of action that left Jesse in awe of Rachel's organisational skills all over again – if he ever wanted to invade a small country, Rachel was the one he wanted as a general – everything was set to go. Sue Sylvester, head of the Lima Town Council (known behind her back as 'Chairwoman Mao') had been mocking Rachel's concert only a few hours ago, until Jesse had informed her that YouTube had had to put on two alternate streaming sites, so many of his subscribers had stated that they were going to be logging on.

Jesse had broadcast on Twitter that this concert would be solely of material he'd never performed or recorded before, and it had brought out his fans in droves. Several of his colleagues in the business were watching too, after Jesse had made sure to inform them that this concert would include a preview of new original material.

He and Rachel had snatched rehearsal time whenever she could spare it – Jesse was sure that she hadn't slept more than eight hours in the last forty-eight – but his faith in her talent had been fully justified. Rachel sounded almost as good as when she'd performed in the Carnegie-Mellon musicals, and just a little more polish from vocal coaching and rehearsal would make her the equal of any of the leading ladies he'd performed with on Broadway.

He was only sorry he wouldn't be able to see the reaction Rachel would get from others in his profession. He'd bet his first Tony statuette that Schuester would be creaming his pants over Rachel before sunset.

Jesse couldn't help himself; he had to see Rachel, talk to her, one last time.

They'd decided that Rachel would enter from the auditorium, surprising the audience from behind. They hadn't needed to debate the playlist at all; they'd simply taken turns suggesting songs, leaving the other to grin in agreement. They hadn't even spoken aloud the name of Rachel's opening number. They'd both known what it would be without even discussing it.

"Ready to go?"

Rachel whirled, and smiled at him. "Born ready!"

She smiled as she brushed off the sleeves of his red shirt, and inspected his black pants and boots. Jesse was confident that he was as immaculate as when he'd arrived.

Rachel cupped his pendant in her hand, and smiled.

"I can't believe you kept this."

"I can't believe you would think for a second that I wouldn't."

"Papa had gone to that health resort in New Mexico, and Daddy and I were with him. By the time we left, I knew the nearby town like the back of my hand – I found this on a jewellery stall, run by this lovely Navajo woman. The second I saw it, I knew you were supposed to have it. I kept this hidden in my dorm room for almost nine months, until your birthday.

"I was so happy the day I bought this for you. It was spring break, my sophomore year. I still thought the world was my oyster, back then. Like I could achieve anything I wanted, and as long as I was willing to work for it, my success was inevitable," Rachel's face fell, and she confessed in a whisper, "I haven't felt like that in a long time. From the second I wake up in the morning, it feels like I'm struggling to breathe. Like this whole damn town, except for Daddy and Papa, is a huge weight on my chest, so smug and self-righteous. None of them believe I came back here for Daddy, you know. They all think I was knocked down a whole series of pegs at Carnegie-Mellon, and came back here to lick my wounds after I had it forcibly hammered into me that I wasn't nearly as talented as I always claimed to be, and that I'm simply too cowardly to admit that I'm as humdrum and mediocre as the rest of them."

"Rachel Barbra Berry!" Jesse chided her sharply. "I obviously came back just in time. You were actually starting to believe that crap, weren't you? You were born to sing and perform – you were born to shine. Now I'm going to make sure that you do. It will be part of my legacy to the world.

"Rachel, I came back here to help out the town, that's true. But I mostly came back for you. I couldn't stand the thought of never hearing you sing again. You have always been meant for better than this town, Rach, and now your Dad's better you can go get it - and I'm going to help you get what you deserve."

Jesse reached out a hand, and gently ran a lock of her silky, dark-chocolate hair through his fingers, and Rachel smiled at him, a gentle, glowing smile that he'd never seen her use with anyone but him and her fathers. He knew that she'd use it for another man soon, but in this last moment it was only for him, and Jesse relished its radiance.

"When you told me to go to New York without you, you said that I wasn't in love with you. That was true, Rachel, but I **do** love you - I think you're the only person in the world I've ever loved. Always have, always will."

Jesse reached out and pulled her close in a crushing hug. He buried his face in her hair and inhaled deeply, memorising her scent, and the feel of her body in his arms.

"One minute!" he heard the call in his earpiece.

Sighing, Jesse let Rachel go. "Never missed a cue, not going to start now. You'd better get into position."

He looked down at Rachel's face, and knew that he'd accomplished what he came here to do.

"This is your moment, Rachel; give it everything you've got." He ducked his head to give her a quick, chaste kiss on the lips. "Break a leg."

"I love you too," Rachel told him, still smiling.

He smiled back at her, and walked away.

Rachel faced the auditorium doors, and took a deep breath as the opening notes rang out.

She wasn't stupid; this performance may be broadcast on the net, but she wasn't going to be the Broadway version of Justin Bieber. But Rachel Berry was a professional, no matter if she lived in Lima or New York City, and she would perform as one.

Time to face the music and dance.

She gripped the curtains, and ripped them open, feeling the spotlight hit her right on cue.

"_Don't tell me not to live – just sit and putter. Life's candy and the sun's a ball of butter – don't bring around a cloud to rain on my parade!"_

Rachel rode the melody, soaring on the harmony. Absorbed by the song, she could still see the looks of surprise and astonishment on faces of people who'd known her all her life, and never took her seriously. Never acknowledged her talent.

Well, she would show them right now what she was worth. Whether she shone on Broadway or Dalton Street, in the Gershwin Theatre or the Lima Civic Centre, Rachel Berry was a **star**!

Standing on the stage, she belted out the last notes with all the passion she'd kept leashed for so long.

The applause crashed over her.

Smiling, Rachel waited for it to die down, gratified and flattered that it took so long.

Holding out her hand to darkened stage right, she declared, "Ladies and Gentlemen – Jesse St. James!"

A new spotlight beamed onto the piano, where Jesse was seated. He waited a few seconds, making sure everyone was focused on him, before he pounded out the opening chords on the piano. When he paused, the drums and bass guitar repeated them. They stopped, and Jesse played the chords again, and this time the band picked it up, continuing with the song. Jesse grinned at Rachel, and she began.

"_There's a fire starting in my heart. Reaching a fever pitch, it's bringing me out the dark."_

She grinned back at Jesse, and he took over.

"_Finally I can see you crystal clear, go ahead and sell me out, and I'll lay your shit bare!"_

Rachel picked up the lines again at the chorus, singing backup to enrich the vocal line. She'd forgotten how much she missed this, weaving her voice with his.

"_And you played it_," Jesse sang.

"_You played it_," Rachel sang back.

"_You played it,_" Jesse sang one last time.

The band cut the music, and together they sang acapella, "_And you played it to the beat!"_

One beat, two beats, and the noise crashed around them.

But it wasn't applause – it was an overwhelming tidal wave of tearing metal and crunching impact and booming explosion, and the theater shook as if from an earthquake.

Rachel instinctively dropped to her hands and knees on the wooden boards, looking around frantically.

**What the hell was going on?**

She turned to ask Jesse, but he wasn't there. She never saw him again.

For the next fifty years, everyone in Lima talked about the Founders' Day Crash the same way everyone else in the country talked about 9/11.

"Thank you Mr Schuester," Rachel spoke quietly into the phone. "I'll see you at 'The Old Haunt' for our meeting."

She shut the phone with a sigh, and slid it in her jeans pocket for easy access. It seemed like it hadn't stopped ringing in the last two days and nights. Jesse had put her down as his emergency contact and next of kin, so between his agent, his publicist and the occasional co-star it seemed like she was taking a call every time she turned around.

But this last call had been for her. Jesse's website and YouTube channel had indeed broadcast the performance, and he'd asked many of his colleagues to watch it. His agent was sending a potential contract by courier for her lawyer (okay, it was Daddy, but he was a damn good lawyer!) to look over, and William Schuester claimed that by the time she'd reached the chorus of '_Don't rain on my parade'_, he'd known that Rachel was the one he wanted to play the lead in the musical he was workshopping right now.

She couldn't miss the chance, she knew; not only had her fathers urged her to take it, she knew it was what Jesse had planned all along. This was the first real step to what she had dreamed of and worked toward her entire life, and she needed to take it.

But she needed some answers first – and approaching her was the tall, lanky figure of the man who was going to give them to her.

"Mr Hudson? – Finn," she corrected herself. Somehow, she'd been completely comfortable with Finn Hudson the moment they met. Which was quite something, considering she'd been in near-hysterics, insisting that everyone leave the site of the plane crash and find out where the hell Jesse was! The first time she saw Finn, it had been less than four hours since the airplane had crashed into the dead centre of Abernathy Memorial Park, and everyone in town was in shock.

If it hadn't been for Jesse's concert, the park would have held almost the entire population of Lima when the plane crashed. The town of Lima, NY, would have gone from a speck on the map to a ghost town in a matter of minutes.

The Police and Fire Department had managed to keep their heads enough to keep everyone out of the rubble while they looked for survivors, and then out of the wreckage to preserve the scene. Finn had praised them highly for their efforts last night at the town meeting - the auditorium had been even more crowded than it had been for the concert, though for a far grimmer purpose.

As the Lead Investigator of the team sent by the National Transportation Safety Board, it was Finn's responsibility to try and find out why the plane had crashed, and crashed where it did.

It had also been his responsibility at the town meeting to confirm that there had been no survivors.

And that Jesse St. James, Lima's most fortunate son, had been on board.

"Hi, Rachel," Finn told her, smiling tentatively. "Was that another call from St. James' publicist?"

"No," Rachel smiled, just a little. "It was the director of a new musical that's being developed for Off-Broadway. Jesse told him to watch the broadcast, and he started trying to call me before the crash even hit the news. I have a meeting with him in two days time, and if that goes well a formal audition after that. But he claims that unless something drastic happens, the part's mine for the asking."

"That's great, Rachel," Finn told her, beaming. He winced, and added, "I mean, obviously the circumstances aren't the greatest..."

"I still can't believe it," Rachel burst out. "Jesse was standing next to me, **singing** with me, when the plane crashed! Don't tell me it was some sort of imposter – that idiot Dakota Stanley already tried. Maybe a lot of people could have been fooled by a good enough actor, but **no one** could make me think I was singing with Jesse St. James except for Jesse St. James himself!"

"Rachel – **Rachel**!" Finn placed his hand on her shoulder, then slid it over and down to rub her back.

Rachel couldn't stop the sudden and absurd notion that what Finn really wanted to do was hug her, but he didn't quite dare. Absurd as the notion was, she couldn't help but wish that he would.

"Rachel, I'm sorry, but there's no mistake. My AV expert Lauren checked the footage from the airport security cameras, and she clearly identified St. James sitting in the waiting area, then walking through the boarding gate, both with her eyes and with facial recognition software. She even double-checked the footage, and it's the real deal. I had them run the DNA three times, on three different machines – given the broadcast, I could justify it.

"Jesse St. James was on that plane, and his remains are in the County Morgue right now. I'm sorry, but I can't put it any other way."

Rachel's eyes brimmed again, and she ducked her head to discreetly wipe away the tear-trails. Over the last two days, it sometimes felt like her eyes were going to be permanently red-rimmed, she'd been crying so much.

Finn took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "Look, I don't know if it helps, but... what I'm about to tell you, it's on the down-low, okay? I mean, I've never actually told anyone this before."

Rachel nodded, and Finn guided her over to her Papa's big car. Rachel's pulse quickened as he grasped her hips to boost her up to sit on the car hood, and she took a deep breath to calm herself as Finn climbed onto the hood beside her. He rested his feet on the bumper, his knees bent, and leaned forward to brace his elbows on his thighs. He looked straight ahead, not at her, and Rachel already knew that was a sign. Whatever he was about to tell her, he was worried about her reaction.

"My dad was in the Army during the First Gulf War. I was born when he was in Iraq. One day when I was about six months old, my Mom looked out the window, and my dad was walking down the path to the front door. Before he got there, she flung the door open and threw herself into his arms, crying because he'd finally come back to her. She didn't know he was coming, you see – she hadn't heard from him in a week, before his latest mission. He wasn't even due home for another couple of months yet.

"She dragged him inside, and straight to the living room, where I was in my playpen, and picked me up and introduced me to my Daddy. He held me, and Mom hustled him into this leather recliner she'd scrimped and saved to buy him for their first anniversary. He sat down with me in his lap, and Mom grabbed the camera. You see, she'd promised him that the day he came home she'd take our first picture together. She snapped the picture, and it's a good thing the camera had auto-focus because her eyes were still blurry. Then the doorbell rang, and she told us to say right there. She hustled to the door, accepted the registered envelope from the postman, and hurried right back. She wasn't away for more than a minute. But Dad was gone, and there was just me sitting in the leather recliner. She called for my Dad, but no one answered. Then something made her open the envelope, and it told her that my dad had been killed in action in Iraq."

Rachel gasped, before her jaw dropped. "But... how?"

"Mom did a lot of research after that, on ghosts and supernatural phenomena. A lot of it was bullshit, but she found this guy called Bobby, who listened to her story. He had a ton of old books about this stuff in his salvage yard, and he showed her a page in one. It was about something called a 'doppelganger' – it's German for 'double walker'. It's a paranormal double of a living person, usually an omen of danger, misfortune, or even death. In Norse mythology, a 'vardoger' is a ghostly double of a living person who performs their actions in advance. Sort of like you're so impatient to get somewhere and do something, your soul gets there before you do and performs a dress rehearsal."

For some reason, it had never occurred to her until now that in all the days of Jesse's return, he hadn't changed his clothes once. Not even for the concert.

Without realizing, Rachel slid closer and leaned her body against Finn's. "You think that Jesse somehow – what, knew he was going to die, and sent his soul ahead to save the town?"

Finn shrugged. "I don't know, Rachel. But I'm pretty sure that no matter what, he wanted to see you one last time."

Rachel rested her head on his shoulder, and she sighed, before her lips curved into another tiny smile.

"Oh! I have something for you," Finn told her, carefully keeping the shoulder underneath her head still, while he used the other hand to dig into his jacket pocket. "I should really be keeping this as evidence for awhile longer, but... well, given that we know beyond any doubt about St. James, I really don't think anyone will bust my ass for this."

He brought out his clenched fist, and offered it to Rachel. His fingers unfurled, and Rachel's breath caught.

It was the obsidian pendant she'd given Jesse. The one he'd been wearing the whole time he was in Lima. The chain was blackened and part-melted, and while the setting was intact, the pendant had a diagonal crack running across it, about a third of the way down.

"I couldn't do anything about the chain or the crack, but I talked to my forensics guy, and he told me how to clean off the soot and – umm, other stuff. I know I never met St. James, but from everything you've told me – well, I think you should have this."

Rachel took the pendant from Finn, so carefully it could have been a Ming vase, and looped the chain through her fingers for extra security.

"Rachel? I know this is, like, the worst timing ever, but I'm heading back tomorrow. If this job's taught me anything, it's that you gotta take the chance while you can. When you come to the city for that meeting with the director... would you have dinner with me?"

Rachel lifted her head and said boldly, "Only if you come to my place for dinner tonight. Consider it your audition."

Finn lit up like he'd just been handed a Christmas present in October. "Seven o'clock okay?"

Rachel nodded.

"I'll be there," Finn vowed.

Rachel smiled, and ducked her head to hide her faint blush, her eyes automatically landing on the pendant cradled in her palm.

She gazed into the tiny obsidian mirror, and Jesse's face looked back at her. He smiled at her for an instant, and then he was gone.

The cracked pendant became famous as her good-luck charm. She insisted on it being part of her costume, when Will Schuester cast her as the female lead in _Time of Your Life._ She wore it under her clothes on all her opening nights. She wore it around her neck the day she married Finn Hudson, and it accentuated her House of Hummel original gown on the night she won her first Tony – nine months before her son Jesse was born.

END OF ACT ONE


	2. Chapter 2

TITLE: Twilight's Falling

AUTHOR: TaleWeaver

FANDOM: Glee/The Twilight Zone

DISCLAIMER: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk and Ian Brennan, and FOX studio, with blink-and-miss-them references to some of my other fandoms. Lyrics featured from 'Don't rain on my parade' from the musical 'Funny Girl', 'More than you know' from 'Funny Lady', and 'Rolling in the Deep' by Adele. Stories adapted from episodes written by Earl Hamner Jr (Ring-a-ding Girl), Alan Brennert and Parke Godwin (Time and Teresa Golowitz) and Jill Blotevogel (Night Route). No profit is being made from this work, and no copyright infringement is intended.

SPOILERS: For the Twilight Zone episodes 'Ring-a-ding Girl', 'Time and Teresa Golowitz' and 'Night Route'.

RATING/WARNING: PG-13. Swearing, sexual references, supernatural themes and character death, including mentions of suicide.

PAIRING: Main pairing is Finn/Rachel. Featuring Jesse & Rachel friendship and minor Jesse/Rachel.

SUMMARY: (AU) A trilogy of tales adapted from episodes of The Twilight Zone, starring Jesse St. James, Finn Hudson, and Rachel Berry.

**Act Two: Time of Your Life**

_**On the verge of death, musician and songwriter Finn Hudson is given a chance to relive one moment of his life. But will he choose to change his past, or another's future?**_

"So, you're working on a new musical right now?"

Finn Hudson nodded and smiled politely at the reporter.

Man, the things he did for his brother. Finn really didn't like doing interviews, and normally someone official had to be kicking and screaming for him to say yes to one, but Kurt had been crushing on this guy for ages.

"I'm afraid I can't talk about it yet."

"That's okay," the blazer-clad man said. What was his name again? Blair? No, that was the chick from _Gossip Girl_. Blaine!

"So, Mr Hudson-"

"Please, Finn's fine."

"Finn, then. You've had an extraordinary life, it's fair to say. Blues and jazz musician in drums and piano, at only thirty-three you're also a Tony Award winning Broadway composer – with two of the shows you've contributed to still running! Grammy winner for Best Song three years ago, for _Somewhere Along the Way _ – did you write it specifically for Adele?"

"No, I wrote it about a year before. Adele and I were on the bill together at the Crossroads Festival – we were on separate stages at opposite ends of the grounds. The odds were, like, one in ten of us actually meeting at all. But one of her backing singers noticed my Journey t-shirt, and it turned out she'd been trying to find one for ages. We started chatting, and I mentioned _Somewhere._ We ended up hanging out after her set, and I played it for her on the piano. Rest is history."

"Speaking of the Crossroads – you almost didn't make it to the festival at all, right?"

Finn's face darkened. "I don't talk about my condition. I prefer to keep my medical history private as possible, if you don't mind."

See, this was one of the reasons he didn't like interviews. Almost everyone brought up that he was living on borrowed time. He'd made his peace with the fact he probably wasn't going to make it to forty, but that didn't mean he liked having it rubbed in his face.

"Oh, of course," Blaine blushed. "Could I talk about the surrounding circumstances at all? The plane crash on the way back from your first major tour, playing in the band for Sunshine Corazon, and how you were one of only three survivors?"

Finn shrugged. "That's a matter of public record. Go for it."

"Something else I've wondered about – your romantic history. There have rumours of you being linked not only to Adele, but April Rhodes, Andrea Cohen... and that's just the musicians!"

Finn smirked. "My mom taught me that a gentleman doesn't ever kiss and tell."

"But you've never publically announced any relationship at all – in fact, you've never been engaged or married even once, in an industry where it seems most men of your prominence have a new wife every three years or so!"

"I guess I just never found the right woman. We must have missed each other somewhere along the way."

Blaine looked at him quizzically.

Finn caught himself, snickered, and added, "Okay, so I just quoted my own song. But what's the point of making a living with words if you can't quote yourself occasionally?"

See, this was the other thing that nearly everyone brought up – his love life. He was fine talking about his work, but how the hell was it anyone else's business who he was sleeping with? Or that he slept alone a lot more often.

He hadn't just pulled _Somewhere Along the Way_ out of the air.

He'd written part of the music and all the first draft of the lyrics one drunken Valentine's Day, when somehow every single person he knew had a date except for him – and not just pity dates, either. Mike had been away for the weekend with Tina (now his wife of almost three years), Artie was on his very first date with Brittany (now Artie's live-in lover, and the only reason they weren't engaged was that Lord Tubbington didn't feel it was the right time yet), and Kurt had been in the heyday of his relationship with Dave.

Finn had spent the whole day wondering why he'd never really been in love. He'd had some relationships, yes, with some great women, but he'd never found **that** person – the one you felt tethered to. The one who made you feel like you were home in a crowded airport, and made you smile just by existing. Who could make the world disappear with a single kiss.

_Somewhere Along the Way_ had been called 'heart-wrenching' for good reason; it was nothing less than a cry from his heart to the universe, for the one thing he wanted so much and hadn't been able to earn or find. In the end, he'd wound through the hopeful thread, that he still had time to find her and love her – the one who filled the hole in his heart.

He was still waiting.

But no way was he going to tell a reporter that, no matter how adorable Kurt thought he was.

After he saw the reporter out (and making sure to get his business card for Kurt) Finn wondered back into his study, sitting at the desk. For awhile, Finn stared at the surreal landscape painting on the wall that had been a gift from Adele after the Grammy, before his vision focused on the silver photo frame sitting in front of him on the dark brown wood.

A twin picture frame, hinged in the middle, the sterling silver frame had been a gift from Kurt – what had it been for? Hell, he couldn't remember anymore. Maybe it hadn't been for anything; Kurt had a habit of strolling into Finn's apartment and performing surgical-strike redecorations whenever he was bored.

The left half of the frame held his family's wedding picture – they all phrased it that way, always had. Mom and Burt in the middle, him and Kurt on either side, with huge smiles on their faces. Kurt had worked like a dog putting the whole thing together, and Finn had begged and pleaded with the whole basketball team to help out. Humiliating himself had been worth it, though – his Mom had looked so happy the whole day.

The other half was a red-carpet shot of him and his Mom, the night he'd won the Grammy. Both his Tony's had been shared, with director and producers and in the first case another composer. The Grammy nod for Best Song had been his alone, so it only made sense to take the most important woman in his life. Kurt had insisted on designing her dress personally, and in one of the best examples of karma ever, Alexander McQueen had admired it and asked the name of the designer. He'd eventually helped Kurt get the start-up financing for the House of Hummel.

Finn sighed, and walked over to his baby grand piano. It was the very first thing he'd bought for this apartment, when he moved in after his second Tony – he'd spent his first night here in a sleeping bag on the floor, right next to the piano. As he sat down on the stool, he picked up the sheet music he'd been making notes on. Finding where he'd left off, he used a pencil to change the last notation to 'forte'.

Beside the other pages of sheet music rested one of his ever-present pill bottles. Over the years, Finn had stopped seeing them as a symbol of his own fragile mortality, and begun regarding them as just part of the scenery.

Blaine hadn't been exaggerating about the results of that plane crash. Sunshine had come out of it with irreparable damage to her voice, and she'd disappeared back to the Philippines soon after, finding a new life working with the Red Cross. The poor bastard who'd been sitting over the wing had been institutionalized almost immediately afterward, claiming the plane had been sabotaged by a gremlin or something. Finn didn't know whether it was survivor's guilt or PTSD, but he'd been released from the mental hospital a week later.

All the other 100-plus people on the plane had died, either on impact or within ten minutes of the crash. They never did figure out exactly what caused it.

He'd been told afterward that he coded three times on the operating table. Sure, it meant that he needed to resort to Yoga and Pilates to keep in shape, with a little swimming. But compared to everyone else, a weakened, irregular-beating heart still seemed like he'd gotten off fairly lightly. At least he'd had time to actually do something important with his life.

Finn absently rolled the pill bottle in his fist, repeatedly playing that last infuriating chord with his left hand.

Damn it! Why couldn't he put together the last few bars? He just needed a bridge and to work out how to arrange the ending, and this song would be done. Artie needed it by the end of the week, because Finn's songs were going to be a major part of pitching _Catch a Falling Star_ to investors.

Finn really wanted Artie's new musical to get to the stage and succeed. Kurt had agreed to take first stab at designing the costumes, with an option to develop them to final product if things went smoothly enough. He had a really good feeling about this show, right from the first time he'd read the script.

"Have you considered a progressive chord?"

Finn nearly hit the ceiling.

"Who the hell are you? How did you get in here? What do you want?" he rattled off rapid-fire.

Standing a few feet away, leaning on his desk, was a guy in his late teens, with a scrubby hairstyle of light brown curls. His hands were casually tucked into his pants pockets, and he wore head to toe black, from his leather jacket with T-shirt underneath to his pants and boots.

He looked kind of familiar, though...

"Seriously, how the hell did you get past my doorman?" Finn demanded. He frowned and muttered, "I could have sworn I armed the security when that reporter left..."

"Oh, you did," his visitor agreed. "But I have a way of getting wherever I need to go." He stepped forward, and offered Finn his hand.

Finn shook it dazedly.

"I'm a huge fan of your work, especially the 'Bright Star' album."

Wait, what? Finn hadn't ever released an album by that name. Shaking it off, he told his intruder, "Look pal, you nearly gave me a heart attack from shock! And for me, that's not exactly a metaphor, get it?"

"Oh, I know that," the Man in Black said. "That's why I've come for you."

Then he angled his head so that Finn could clearly see his face.

His eyes were completely black, swirling with all the lights of eternity.

"Ah, **crap**," Finn sighed. "I knew I wouldn't make it past forty, but I was hoping for at least a little more time."

The Man in Black gave a rueful, sympathetic smile, and shrugged. "Sorry, that's not the kind of choice I can make."

Finn looked down at himself, but he still seemed to be in his body. "Am I dead yet? I'd like to write a quick letter to my family if I can."

"You don't have letters for them already?"

"Well, yeah. When you know what's coming... I update the letters and my will every six months or so. But if there's time?" Finn asked.

"Well, you're not **quite **dead yet, but I thought of something else. As I said, Finn, I'm a huge fan," the Man said. "This isn't something I offer many people, but considering how much enjoyment you've brought me over the years I think it's really the least I can offer you."

"You said you couldn't give me more time," Finn said suspiciously.

"No, I can't. But I can give you one last hurrah. I can send you back in time to your younger body, for just a few hours, to let you relive a particularly good time in your life – or even let you change a bad one. Before you ask, I can't send you back to the plane crash so you can decide not to board. That's one of the pivotal points of your life, and I can't alter that."

Finn sighed. "So much for that idea."

He thought for a few moments, thinking about all the most vivid times in his life, both good and bad. His family's wedding; meeting Adele and playing her _Somewhere_; Mike and Tina's wedding had been an awesome party. He could tell Dave not to be an ass and give up his relationship with Kurt to go back in the closet so he could get signed by the Dallas Cowboys. He could prevent Burt's first heart attack, maybe? Nah, Burt had been eating wrong for years before that – he'd never believe a ten year old kid. In the same vein, he didn't really have any way to make things easier for his Mom when he was growing up. Besides, from what the Man in Black said, it had to be something in **his **life.

Then Finn thought of something. He still considered it the most important 'pivotal point' in his life, until the crash. He could shrug it off now, but that betrayal had damaged him permanently; he'd become a far better person for it, but the scars still ached a little.

"Sophomore year of high school," Finn stated. "The party where Quinn stripped and tried to jump me, and I turned her down because she was drunk. I wanted to be a good guy. I went to get her some water, and I came back to find her going at it with Puck like there was no tomorrow."

Black raised his eyebrows, and asked, "So you want your high school girlfriend back?"

Finn smirked nastily and snickered. "Nope. I just want to hit that first. Either way, it has to be better than losing my V-card in a literal fucking disaster with a Bitch-Queen closeted lesbian."

"That's when you want to go to?" Death asked.

"I will remember **me**, won't I?" Finn asked anxiously. "I won't end up staying with Quinn and letting her control-freak personality grind my self-esteem into dust, so she can talk me into being her ultimate fashion accessory for the rest of high school? I really don't want to find out that I've changed my life so much I wound up married to her and taking over Burt's tire shop. I'll just die now, thanks."

"Don't worry," Black chuckled. "It'll be your present self in control. Time causality won't let you change your own future too much."

"Time whatsit?"

"The flow of time – cause and effect."

"Oh," blinked Finn. He still didn't really get it, but did he really need to? "So, do I need to do anything?"

"Not a thing. Just close your eyes."

Finn shrugged, and obeyed, humming those last few bars under his breath.

Then opened them in surprise and nearly jumped again, as he heard Rihanna blasting almost right in his ear.

Looking around, he recognised the Fabray's living room, now crowded with his high school classmates.

Stumbling to his feet, he walked to the fireplace to get away from the speakers (the armchair he'd been sitting in had been right in front of the sound system), and looked at himself in the mirror above the mantelpiece.

He hadn't really changed all that much physically since high school; after all, he wasn't old enough to have wrinkles or grey hair. His hair was a little shorter in the mirror, and he wasn't wearing his reading glasses anymore. But he was wearing one of the ever-present polo shirts that Kurt had taken years to ban from his wardrobe (and he still had a few for lazy days at home), and his McKinley High letter jacket. He'd never worn it again after this night, unless the basketball coach specifically asked him to.

If he went into the bathroom and took his jacket and shirt off, Finn knew the scars from his heart surgery would be gone. So would his tattoos: the phoenix reborn on his left bicep that he'd gotten on the sly early in his senior year of high school (after Finn had wiped the floor with a stoned-out-of-his-gourd Puck who'd made the mistake of picking a fight), the words 'Every Moment Counts' over his heart on the first anniversary of the plane crash, and a stave of musical notes on the underside of his right forearm, after he'd won his first Tony and knew that he'd really, truly, made something of his life, far away from Lima.

Something caught his eye as he looked into the mirror, and Finn frowned. Turning, Finn looked across the room and his eyes widened. No **wonder **the Man in Black had looked so familiar!

Casually making his way across the room without meeting anyone's eyes (an essential skill at award show after-parties), he leaned against the wall, and turned his head just enough to mutter, "Jesse St. James? Seriously?"

"Whenever I use a host, I can shape my own form into their image afterward," Black shrugged. "I figured things would go more smoothly if you knew I was here."

Finn frowned. "Wait a minute, when you say host – holy shit, St. James is dead? I thought he just went to LA!"

Black smirked. "No, he's not dead, and this is his current-time, teenage body, just as yours is. Think of it as a time share; I'm in control of his body, yes, but when we leave, he won't remember this conversation, or anything else I've done. Looking back at this night, all he'll remember is what he was thinking and what he wanted to do while I was borrowing him." Black tilted his head. "Right now, he's calculating his chances of sleeping with Santana Lopez by the end of the night."

"Pretty good," shrugged Finn. "At this point, she was still dropping her panties for anything with a Y chromosome. Still don't know whether she was using sex to climb the high school ladder – which is really kind of pathetic, when you think about it – or just desperately trying to convince herself she wasn't playing for the all-girls team. I think Kurt told me after he went to the ten-year class reunion that she didn't really work out she was gay until college."

Black looked back at him quizzically. "You really feel strongly about her, don't you? Even after all this time."

"She didn't just screw me, she screwed me up. If it's possible to have a sexual identity crisis without wondering if you're gay, I had one. After she was finished with me, I was so paralysed by disappointment and doubt that I didn't have sex again until college. **And** I had to get drunk first - good thing she was even more wasted."

"Well, I have to admit, Finn, that I'm not just here for you. I have an appointment tonight, and since I'm here now I have to keep it again."

Finn looked at him in confusion. "Sorry, I'm not following."

Black discreetly pointed to the corner, where a dark-haired teenage girl wearing a black turtleneck and a green-checked miniskirt was holding a cup and trying not to look like she was expecting to get Slushied any minute. "Remember her?"

Finn frowned. "No, I don't think so. It was one of the things I never liked about Quinn, how she'd always invite one or two girls who weren't popular, and who Quinn didn't think were hot, to make herself look prettier in comparison. Was she in one of my classes?"

"Maybe if I tell you that her name's Rachel Berry?"

Finn's eyes lit in recognition. "Wait, **that's** her? It was the scandal of the year at McKinley! It even managed to be bigger news than one of the other cheerleaders – who was it, Spicy or something? – walking in on Quinn and Puck right after I did and posting the photos to everyone in school.

"Quinn didn't know whether to be glad or pissed over it. On one hand, she didn't get a rep as a two-faced ho, but on the other Rachel completely eclipsed her. I remember her funeral - they were offering the day off to anyone who wanted to go, and I thought I really should go if I took the day off. Her Dads talked about how much she loved Streisand. I think they said that she had all of _Funny Girl_ word perfect by the time she was eight." Finn inhaled sharply, and asked, "It's tonight it happens?"

He looked at Black, and asked, "Why did she do it?"

"She didn't actually intend to," Black told him. "But she had to take the bus home, because no one at the party was willing to talk to her, much less give her a ride. She spent the whole time reeking of beer, because your former friend Puck deliberately tossed his drink on her before he found Quinn smashed, naked, and horny. The looks from all the other passengers who thought she was some teenage drunk just reminded her of all the looks she received from everyone here at the party. She couldn't help but keep thinking about how alone and ignored she was, and that she'd never be anything else. She wanted to be a star on Broadway so badly, you see; she knew she had the talent to make it, but she never received any acknowledgement of her gifts, except from her parents and the coaches they hired. Right before she came to the party, she found the particularly nasty messages Quinn and Santana both left on her MySpace page in response to her latest performance. Somewhere along the way, Rachel convinced herself that she was never going to get out of Lima, and she was going to spend her life ignored, and rejected. So when the bus pulled out, she stepped in front of it."

Finn swayed a little on his feet. "Jesus, that's awful. Even when I felt my worst about what happened here, I never thought about doing something like that."

Looking back at Rachel, he found the corner was empty. His eyes darted around the room, and caught a movement through the picture windows. His face intent, Finn strode through the crowd to the kitchen, and grabbed a couple of cans of Coke from the ice-filled kitchen sink, before slipping out the kitchen entrance to the garden. Stopping under a tree, he looked around the moonlit garden, eventually spotting a slight figure curled up in the swing seat.

Casually strolling, he sauntered over. He'd spent years hanging out with some of the top-seeded players on the Manhattan dating circuit, and he knew how to vary his approach to a woman depending on her mood and romantic history.

Stopping at the end of the swing seat, Finn pretended that he'd just noticed her in the shadow of the canopy. "Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't realize anyone else was here."

"It's alright," Rachel murmured. "I can leave."

She shifted her weight to stand, and Finn held out his hands. "No, please. You were here first." Biting his lip, he ventured, "Mind if I join you?"

Silence from underneath the canopy.

Finn reached into the pocket of his jacket, and brought out the second can. "I have an extra can – still cold!"

"I don't drink alcohol," Rachel told him, her voice growing stronger. "It's bad for the vocal chords."

"It's just Coke," Finn assured her, holding it in the moonlight so she could see the famous logo. "I'm driving, so it's a dry night for me."

"Um, okay."

Finn carefully settled himself on the seat (he'd suddenly remembered almost knocking the thing over when he'd first started dating Quinn), and handed over the can, before pulling out his own from his other pocket.

With a pair of hiss-cracks, Finn and Rachel opened their cans simultaneously.

Finn sipped his drink, and wondered how to start. He'd only had the vaguest idea when he'd come out here, and he was starting to realize just how out of his depth he was.

Well, the Man in Black said that Rachel had killed herself because she'd felt rejected and ignored. So... make her feel accepted and appreciated. He'd said that she'd wanted to be on Broadway – well, Finn knew how to deal with Broadway actors and singers. He was starting to get an idea, but he needed to build at least a slight rapport with her first.

"You're Rachel Berry, right?" he asked.

A startled silence from his seatmate was followed with a quiet, "I didn't think anyone at this party knew my name."

"You sit a couple of seats down from me in... US History, right? I think Ms Pillsbury mentioned you when she was talking to me about getting a tutor, as well."

"I am rather active in the Peer Tutoring Program," Rachel admitted. "I usually get very high ratings from my students – although that could just be the sugar cookies I bring to use as rewards."

Silence fell again, and Finn racked his brains. Something Kurt had said in one of their group support sessions for gays and their families came back to him, _"Coming to terms with what I am was hard. It became easier for me when I understood that everyone has it hard in some way or another, gay or straight – to misquote REM, I didn't feel so alone when I realized that everybody hurts."_

"Um, thanks for letting me sit with you, by the way. I really needed to get out of there for awhile."

"Why?" Rachel asked. "You're Finn Hudson, the quarterback, dating Head Cheerleader Quinn Fabray. Everyone in there loves you."

"What's the saying? All that glitters isn't golden? It looks really cool from the outside, but it's kind of a shark tank, you know? One false move and you're out. Quinn's the popularity strategist, not me. I can't work out advantages and pitfalls unless I've got a ball of some sort in my hands." Finn hurriedly added, "Um, a sports ball of some kind, I mean."

A breathy suggestion of a giggle.

"The whole popular thing? It's not nearly as fun as it looks. I mean, I know this is high school and all, but it's not like being popular is actually important, you know? Not in the real world. In another three years, we'll be out of here and no one's going to care whether you were Prom Queen, or shook some pompoms."

Yeah, Finn knew all about that. He just wished that he'd known it back in high school. He just hoped the undeniable truth of his words would get through to Rachel.

"All the important things when you're popular are just... shallow, you know? Meaningless. It's all about how you look and what car you drive and who you date. Hardly anything you can actually choose or control about yourself. Nothing to do with smarts or talent or ability. That's what people look for in the real world – what you can **do**. What you can **be**."

A thoughtful silence.

"Hey, you said something before about vocal chords – are you a singer?"

"Yes," the answer came, her tone almost defiant. "I intend to win a Tony by the time I'm twenty-five."

"At least you have a goal. Quinn's sole ambition is to win Prom Queen, and go to an Ivy League college so she can get out of Lima. She's really smart, but she hides it, and her only real talent is making people do what she wants... come to think of it, she'd do really well in politics."

"That's actually a little disturbing," came the thoughtful reply.

Finn looked at her. "You want to know how easy it is to be a star at a party?"

"Yes, I do!" Rachel said, the drive back in her voice.

Finn stood up, making the whole swing seat shudder, and held out his hand. "Come with me."

Rachel slowly reached out a hand, and placed it in his.

Finn helped her up, and spent a second looking at her. She didn't have Quinn's conventional, perfume-ad prettiness, or Santana's sultry temptress looks, but Rachel was actually very attractive, in a slightly exotic way that most guys wouldn't appreciate until they were a little older. Her nose was a little too strong, but it added character, and her large dark eyes were liquid as they looked back at him. From the skirt, he knew she had awesome legs, and while her breasts weren't very big, she was slim and light.

Damn. This girl was going to have guys following her around in droves when she hit twenty. Too bad she'd never believe him if he told her that, after all the rejection she'd suffered so far.

Finn kept a gentle but firm hold on her hand, not wanting her to get away, and it felt small and smooth and warm in his own as he led her inside and through the living room. As they approached the far corner, he stopped by Matt Rutherford, and asked him to turn off the music.

As he slid onto the piano stool, he saw Quinn frown, and toss back the remainder of her drink. She held out her hand imperiously, and a random Cheerio gave her a fresh glass.

"I didn't know that you played the piano," Rachel said in surprise. "I thought I was acquainted with all my fellow performers at McKinley."

"I started sophomore year," Finn answered absently, automatically playing a quick scale to assess how in tune the piano was.

Finding out about Quinn and Puck – being publically betrayed by his best friend and his girlfriend, the two people who were always supposed to have his back – had thrown him into a tailspin that affected his entire life. Unable to bear the sight of either one of them, he'd switched as many classes as he could, quit the football team and stopped going anywhere the popular kids went.

"I already knew how to play the drums, but pounding on them all day would have driven my poor Mom nuts. So I just took refuge in the choir room every day after school, and the jazz band were all nice guys who never ratted me out. Eventually, Brad the pianist took pity on me and showed me the basics. A little after that, Kurt wandered in and started helping me."

Finn had been so oblivious to just about everything but his refuge of ivory keys, that it had taken months for him to realize that Kurt had actually been courting him. But by the time he worked that out, he'd been terrified of raising the issue because Kurt had already become his best – and for the most part his only - friend. Luckily, the closer they became the more Kurt realized that Finn not only wouldn't, but couldn't ever like him that way - he just wasn't wired for it. So they'd introduced their parents instead, and the rest was history.

"I was kinda obsessed. But when I played, all the bad stuff went away, you know? So I just kept practising, and the more I practised the better I got. The better I got the more I wanted to play, because it meant I could get at least one thing in my stupid life right."

He'd thrown away almost everything he considered important, and found that he didn't need it. It took him awhile, but he finally figured it out: being popular had been cool, but being Finn Hudson was actually pretty awesome. Somewhere down at the bottom of a whirlpool of confusion and hurt and despair, Finn had found himself, and discovered he was stronger and better than he'd ever dreamed.

"I still may not be able to play Beethoven, but Broadway and contemporary are my bitches!" he snickered. He looked up, and Rachel was staring at him like she'd never seen him before.

Oh, **crap**. None of that had happened yet! Hell, the first time he'd been at this party, he'd barely known Kurt's name!

But Rachel wasn't looking at him like a freak – instead, there was a kind of sad recognition in her eyes.

"That's sort of how I feel about singing, actually."

Finn smiled at her gently. "You've got a lot more natural talent to work with."

Then he winked, and gave her the grin that had landed him in bed with Maxim's July 2018 cover model that same summer. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

Rachel blushed bright red, but her eyes were sparkling.

"You know _Funny Girl_ by heart, right?" Finn asked.

Rachel looked at him, frowning. "Well, yes, but how did you know-?"

"I've always preferred _Funny Lady_ myself. I really like the idea that Fanny reached much higher artistically once she was married to a man who supported her talents, and wasn't just jealous of them because she was extraordinary, and he only wanted to be." Finn played a few chords, and asked, "You know this one?"

Rachel nodded instantly. "It's my favourite from that show."

Finn smiled, and started to play, pouring fifteen years of skill and experience, of passion and pain, into the instrument – because this might just be his most important performance.

Rachel closed her eyes, ran her fingers along the smoothly gleaming lid of the piano, and began to sing, slowly and soulfully.

"_More than you know  
More than you know  
Man of my heart, I love you so  
Lately I've found you on my mind  
More than you know."  
_

For the first time in years, Finn's fingers nearly stumbled on the keys.

Holy **shit**.

He'd known Rachel had to have a nice voice... but this wasn't a nice voice. This was an **incredible** voice. In this very moment, she was every bit as good as at least half the professional singers he'd worked with. She was better than at least a third. A little more training and experience, and she'd be able to stand shoulder to shoulder with the best and brightest. Rachel wasn't kidding herself about her Broadway ambitions; she had everything it took to be a star. Damn, he'd love to see her playing Elphaba.

_"Whether you're right  
Whether you're wrong  
Man of my heart, I'll string along  
I need you so  
More than you'll ever know"_

Finn threw himself into the bridge, playing with all his might to do justice to this wonderful voice. He could actually feel it in his chest, surrounding and gently buffering his damaged heart._  
_  
_"Loving you the way that I do  
There's nothing I can do about it  
Loving may be all you can give  
But darling, I can't live without it"  
_

Rachel had impeccable staging, turning up the intensity to match the raw yearning in the lyrics, before easing back down to the plaintive, longing end.

_"Oh, how I'd cry  
How I'd sigh  
If you got tired and said goodbye  
More than I show  
More than you'll ever know"_

Even as the last notes died away, Rachel was surrounded by people praising her performance.

Watching her glowing smile break out, Finn was dazzled.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Quinn. Her face was almost disfigured by her ugly scowl, and she'd drained her glass again.

Well, Rachel was taken care of, so now it was time to take care of what he'd originally come here for.

Finn slid out from the piano stool, and made his way through the crowd to where Quinn stood.

"Want another drink?"

"I can't believe you did this to me," Quinn snarled.

"So would you rather get out of here and go someplace private instead?" Finn asked blandly.

Quinn glared at him.

"Well, I'm sure Rachel would love me to give her a ride," Finn paused for a fraction of a second, "home. She might even insist on giving me some of her sugar cookies."

Granted, it wasn't exactly the most subtle approach, but Quinn was already too wasted to notice.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. How come he'd never noticed her competitive, possessive streak the first time around? Man, if he'd really become friends with Rachel back then, God knows what she would have done. "Fine, let's go to my room."

Taking his hand, she strode off, towing him along in her wake. Finn obediently followed – actually, he didn't have much choice, given the death-grip Quinn had on his hand.

Finn was a lot more experienced than any high school boy – even Puck the sex-shark – and Quinn was already off-balance from the sudden shift in the crowd's attention, not to mention her mind clouded and her self-control eroded from the alcohol in her system.

So Finn had her naked to the waist in short order, her moans filling his ears as he kissed her throat and gently toyed with her breast. He knew from the last time he'd lived through this that Quinn was not only willing but eager to go all the way, but he still had to give her time to change her mind. After all, he couldn't do this if she didn't want to. Finn could admit he was acting kind of douchey, but that was justified by Quinn being a back-stabbing bitch. Having sex with her without her clear and full consent was far, far, beyond what he was willing to do. He'd rather die with blue balls.

Pulling away from her, he smiled in satisfaction as Quinn whimpered in loss.

"Just gotta cool down a bit," he murmured.

Laying Quinn down against the pillows, Finn slipped off the bed and wandered over to the window. Quinn's bedroom was on the second floor, and he cracked open the window, enjoying the cool night air on his face – after all, it would probably be the last time he'd feel anything like this.

Looking down at the garden, he admired the view, the full moon turning the mundane assembly of trees and bushes and lawn into something bordering on magical.

It even had a fairy, tiny and slim and graceful as a shadow.

Finn smiled at his ridiculous thought, but then his smile dropped away.

It was Rachel in the garden, and as she looked up at the sky, Finn saw her face, made wretched by despair.

He knew that expression. He'd worn that expression when he saw Quinn riding Puck like a jockey in the Kentucky Derby. He'd seen it in the mirror right after the cardiologist told him he was a dead man walking.

It felt like having a bucket of ice dumped over his head.

He hadn't done enough. He hadn't changed anything. Rachel was still going to die, and now that thought fucking **hurt**, because he wanted to see more of that dazzling smile, and find out if her sugar cookies really were that good.

Most of all, Finn wanted to hear Rachel Berry sing again.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Quinn trying to smile seductively, though her glazed eyes and bright red face sort of ruined the effect. Jesus, he'd never felt less horny in his life.

To hell with the past – what was so important about it, anyway? He **knew** he was going to get out of Lima, and make a career out of doing what he loved. He was going to spend the rest of his life being successful and mostly happy. He'd already **won** this game!

What did his past matter, compared with Rachel's future?

He whirled and headed to the door, tossing a hurried, "Sorry, Quinn, I gotta go," over his shoulder.

"You're walking away me from me?" Quinn shrieked indignantly. "Finn! Get back here or we're done!"

Finn smiled as he walked out the door, finally realising that he really didn't give a shit. He already felt five pounds lighter.

He'd taken barely three steps out of Quinn's bedroom, when he collided with Puck.

"Where have you been, man?"

Finn looked at him and grinned. Apparently some things were meant to be after all. Too bad for Quinn; she really was going to be the scandal of the year this time around. He reached out and clapped Puck on the shoulder.

"She's all yours, dude."

Puck frowned in confusion, but Finn just smiled wider and headed for the stairs.

Pushing his way through the crowd, Matt Rutherford caught his eye, and nodded towards the garden.

As he walked back onto the back porch, Finn mused that he might have underestimated his ever-silent teammate. Maybe he'd changed the past just enough to have another friend in his life? He hoped so.

Rachel had left the garden and was standing on the porch, mostly in shadow as she leaned against one of the columns that supported the roof.

"Rachel?"

She turned, her eyes wide. "Finn?" She blinked almost dazedly, before looking at him narrowly. "I thought you'd have your hands under Quinn's shirt by now."

Finn bit his lip, as the obvious conclusion hit him; Rachel had seen him slip off with Quinn, and it had brought all her feelings of rejection back. But why hadn't the praise of the crowd been enough? Heck, he'd seen Mike Chang talking to her enthusiastically and he was almost as silent as Matt!

Finn decided that really wasn't important, and shrugged. "I was, but then I realized that it really wasn't all that important to me. That stuff I told you about popularity being shallow and not important? I sort of reminded myself of that, too, and it kind of ruined the mood."

"Um, sorry?" Rachel ventured. "I didn't mean to ruin your... good time."

"It wasn't, really," Finn said thoughtfully. "She didn't really want me, just a popular football player to look good on her arm. I'm sure Puck's doing an excellent job of making up for my desertion as we speak."

"Noah Puckerman?" Rachel blinked in shock. "He attends the same temple as I do. Isn't Quinn a devout Catholic?"

Finn shrugged, nagged by an odd sense of sand falling through an hourglass. "Hell hath no fury like Cheerio ditched, I guess."

As if from very far away, he heard piano music again, and Rachel looked around absently as if she could hear it too. Finn looked past her through the window, but no one was at the piano.

Feeling an odd sense of urgency, Finn asked, "Will you have lunch with me on Monday, at school? I don't think I'll be very welcome at my regular table for awhile, and well, I'd like to talk to you some more."

Rachel blushed – and damn, that was adorable – and nodded. "I'd love to have lunch with you, Finn. If nothing else, we could discuss the merits of _Funny Girl _versus _Funny Lady_!"

"How about Journey versus Springsteen?" Finn answered. "Classic rock is really my favorite to listen to."

Rachel bit her lip. "I have to admit, I'm not very familiar with Journey's work. I'll get some of their work off iTunes tomorrow."

"You will be there on Monday, won't you Rachel?" Finn looked at her meaningfully. "I'm really looking forward to what tomorrow holds."

Rachel smiled - just a little, but it was real. "For the first time in ages, I'm looking forward to what tomorrow holds, too."

Finn smiled back, and his ear caught a familiar piece of music – one that no one else had yet heard. "I hate to play and run, but that's my cue."

"You can't miss a cue, Finn, it would be very unprofessional," Rachel told him. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Finn nodded and grinned at her, before he pivoted and jumped over the porch stairs, landing on the lawn. As he started walking, he closed his eyes, humming the last few bars that had eluded him before.

Then Finn opened his eyes, and he was back in his office.

He looked up at the Man in Black, and his eyes narrowed. "You planned this right from the start. Didn't you?"

The Man shrugged dismissively. "Everything that happened back there was solely your own decision. I merely provided the transportation."

Finn raised his eyebrows and did his best imitation of Kurt's 'oh, reeaally?' look.

The Man in Black chuckled. "I'm an artist myself, Finn, and music is my favorite medium. Mozart died at thirty-five, Gershwin didn't see forty. Elvis was only forty-two. Morrison and Cobain didn't even make it to thirty. But they all left rich legacies. Losing Rachel Berry at only sixteen? Now **that** would have been a true tragedy. Even you."

"Me?" Finn looked astounded.

"Yes. Your legacy to the world will be so much richer for knowing Rachel."

Finn looked down at the board of his piano, and gently drew his fingers across the keys as he smiled at the thought. Taking a deep breath, he looked back up and asked, "So, do we go now?"

The Man in Black shook his head. "Not anymore. Your playing with time has caused quite a kerfluffle. You need to lay low for awhile, before you head up top."

"Up top?" Finn asked hopefully.

The other laughed, though not unkindly, and nodded. "Yeah, then up top – they're not **that** mad at you. But I'm afraid that the Upstairs administrators have never really understood the purpose of… creative history," the Man in Black admitted. "Especially since Rachel wasn't the only one that ended up with a new lease on life."

Finn blinked. "What? Is that possi-"

"Speaking of which," Black interrupted. He reached down and plucked the pill bottle from Finn's grasp. "You won't be needing these anymore. Turns out, you were so busy having really great sex with your wife that you missed Flight 815 altogether. Therefore no plane crash, and no weak heart."

Finn's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. He sat frozen, until a splash of colour on the wall behind the Man – which hadn't been there before – caught his eye. As he tilted his body to the side to look around the Man in Black, his heart pounded like a drum.

The splash of colour on the wall resolved itself into a framed poster – for _Funny Girl_. The central image of the poster was a mid-twenties version of Rachel, in a scarlet and gold striped bodice that made the most of her cleavage and a short, fluffy scarlet skirt, one leg bent at the knee with her foot lifted in the air to show off her glittery gold roller skate. Beneath the picture were the words "Starring Tony Award Winner Rachel Berry!"

Finn gaped, and his eyes landed on the back of the silver picture frame on his desk. Only instead of a sole double frame, now there was a single frame on the left, and another, triple-fold frame on the right. Bolting past his visitor, Finn ran around his desk, and steadied himself by gripping the back of his office chair as he looked at the photos. The single frame held the same family shot as before; him, Mom, Burt and Kurt at their wedding. But in the triple frame...

The left hand picture was of him and Rachel in red graduation gowns, standing on a set of bleachers, with Rachel standing two steps above him so their heads were on the same level as they kissed.

The middle picture was of him in a suit, his hands on Rachel's hips as she stood in front of him, both of them angled diagonally and wearing glowing smiles. Rachel wore a floor-length white dress, gold stars scattered over the skirt and along the scooped neckline, and she held a waterfall bouquet of jasmine.

The right hand picture showed the two of them standing in front of a black glass window, city lights distantly glowing through it. He was in the same suit as his old Grammy photo, but Rachel was plastered against his side, one leg wrapped around his and wearing a sparkling silver mini-dress that clung to her lithe body so closely that Finn was fairly sure she wasn't wearing anything at all underneath it. The bright lopsided smiles on their faces made Finn think they were both more than a little drunk, and they brandished matching Grammy statuettes.

In a daze, Finn stumbled to the shelf that held his awards, snatching up the Grammy. It still said '_Best Song'_, and the same year – only now it said '_Finn Hudson – Pretending_'. There was another Grammy next to it, and it was for the same year.

_Best Pop Performance by a Duo or Group With Vocals_

_Finn Hudson and Rachel Berry Hudson _

' _Pretending'_

Next to that... Finn's eyes widened and he nearly dropped the Grammy. Placing it carefully back on the shelf, he picked up the Oscar with trembling hands.

_Best Original Song _

'_A Love for All Time' _

_(Somewhere I Will Find You) _

_Music and Lyrics: _

_Finn Hudson and Rachel Berry Hudson_

He gently placed the Oscar back on the shelf, and staggered back to flop into his desk chair. It wasn't until he was securely seated that he realized the Man in Black had gone – and Finn hadn't even noticed.

His head whirling, Finn looked back at the triple frame, and saw something he hadn't noticed before. Each frame had a world inscribed beneath it. Together, they read 'What Tomorrow Holds.'

END OF ACT TWO

POSTSCRIPT: BTW, if anyone's wondering about when the Man in Black referred to his favourite of Finn's albums being 'Bright Star', and Finn thinking that he didn't have an album of that name? It's actually from this revised timeline, and something that might get brought up again if I ever write more in this universe.

In the new history, 'Star Bright' is Finn's private nickname for Rachel; when they first became friends after this pivotal party, they worked together on an English project on poet John Keats, who called his own true love 'Bright Star'. Finn reversed that to make 'Star Bright', which of course also refers to Rachel's being a star (because metaphors are important). All the original songs on the 'Bright Star' album are written about Rachel somehow (some even including lines from Keats' poetry), and the few covers are all songs that remind him of her - 'Pretending' is first recorded on this album. Rolling Stone will later name it one of the greatest make-out and get-laid albums of all time.


	3. Chapter 3

TITLE: Twilight's Falling

AUTHOR: TaleWeaver

FANDOM: Glee/The Twilight Zone

DISCLAIMER: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk and Ian Brennan, and FOX studio, with blink-and-miss-them references to some of my other fandoms. Lyrics featured from 'Don't rain on my parade' from the musical 'Funny Girl', 'More than you know' from 'Funny Lady', and 'Rolling in the Deep' by Adele. Stories adapted from episodes written by Earl Hamner Jr (Ring-a-ding Girl), Alan Brennert and Parke Godwin (Time and Teresa Golowitz) and Jill Blotevogel (Night Route). No profit is being made from this work, and no copyright infringement is intended.

SPOILERS: For the Twilight Zone episodes 'Ring-a-ding Girl', 'Time and Teresa Golowitz' and 'Night Route'.

RATING/WARNING: PG-13. Swearing, sexual references, supernatural themes and character death, including mentions of suicide.

PAIRING: Main pairing is Finn/Rachel. Featuring Jesse & Rachel friendship and minor Jesse/Rachel.

SUMMARY: (AU) A trilogy of tales adapted from episodes of The Twilight Zone, starring Jesse St. James, Finn Hudson, and Rachel Berry.

**Act Three: The Last Bus Home **

_**On her nightly run, aspiring singer and actress Rachel Berry finds a bus appearing where no bus stop stands, with a driver who invites her aboard, again and again. But if she chooses to take the night bus, where will it take her?**_

Thwap

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Whoosh!

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Whoosh!

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Whoosh!

Rachel Berry took an extra step for momentum, and then leaped to the top of the foot-high wall that surrounded the playground without breaking her rhythm. She'd stopped using her iPod on her runs for greater safety when she started her night route, and had grown to prefer running to her own natural soundtrack – the light thumping of her feet, and the whistle of her breath.

Jumping off the wall, she took two steps across the pavement – and stopped dead, throwing herself backwards to keep her balance. She glared at the black car that had slammed on the brakes right in her path, and reached out to thump on the hood in indignation.

To her aggravation, the driver ignored her, and drove away.

"Hey! They're called headlights, dirtbag!" Rachel called after the car.

Making a harsh noise in her throat in frustration, Rachel took a deep breath and shook her head. Double-checking both sides of the street, she started off again, loping across the deserted road at an easy pace, and rounded the corner of the T-junction.

Thwap

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Whoosh!

Thirty more paces, and she'd be home.

Twenty more paces.

Fifteen more – stop.

Rachel stopped almost dead on the spot in astonishment. What the heck was a bus doing across the street from her building? There wasn't a bus stop there; in fact, there wasn't a bus stop on this street for at least three junctions in any direction.

Curious now, she walked across the street, eyeing the bus. It looked like a typical city bus, with 'route 63' in the slot above the rear window. Beneath the window was a plain black and white advertisement, reading 'Need a New Life?' As she walked along the side on the footpath, the ad seemed to continue, the same simple white text on a black background, with 'Need New Life Insurance?'

Rachel heard the doors hiss open, and curiously looked inside. The man sitting behind the wheel was in his early thirties, with a head of tight blonde curls, and ruthless cheekbones.

His smile was friendly, though, as he asked, "Are you coming with us, Rachel?"

Rachel's eyes widened, and she quickly looked at his nametag, which read 'Schuester'.

She'd never seen him before.

So how did he know her name?

Rachel prided herself on being calm in a crisis – essential for work in the theatre – but on top of her near-accident, this was too much. Overcome by a sudden feeling of utter dread, she sprinted in front of the bus and tore across the street, her hands slapping the front doors of her building and absorbing the shock as she all but slammed into them.

Breathing hard from a mix of sudden physical exertion and fear, Rachel whirled and put her back against the doors as she took one last look at the bus.

But the street was empty.

Walking down the shallow steps, Rachel looked both ways on the street. Even though the street stretched for a good mile in each direction, there was no sign of the bus. She hadn't heard it leave, nor could she have taken more than a minute to cross the street. Where was it?

Shivering now, Rachel all but fled into her building. She was lucky enough to find an elevator on the ground floor, and rubbed her upper arms briskly with her hands as she rode up to the fifth floor.

Letting herself into her apartment, she called out, "I'm home!"

Nothing but a silent and dark apartment greeted her.

Sighing in resignation, Rachel tossed her keys into the little glass bowl on the sideboard that stood against the wall next to the front door, and walked into the kitchen. Looking at the small whiteboard on the upper refrigerator door, she read out loud, "Dinner with Takeuchi at Madrid Courtyard. Wish me luck! Curly, here I come!"

Rachel sighed again, and opened the refrigerator for the milk. She'd been a vegan in high school, but college had been too expensive to buy her own food, and vegetarian was the best she could do. She'd thought about trying to go back to it after graduation, but she'd moved in with Jesse instead, and he barely tolerated vegetarian dishes as it was. She did rather like dairy though, so it wasn't all bad, and she tried to keep her use of eggs to a minimum.

Checking the urn on the counter, she refilled it and set it to heat. Between her tea consumption and Jesse's coffee addiction, they'd found it easier to simply set up a full-sized urn and keep it going more or less constantly.

Waiting for the water to boil, she wandered past the counter and into the open-plan dining room, idly looking at the collection of photos on the wall. There were her fathers, and two or three others of her with them. Jesse holding the National Show Choir trophy from his sophomore year in high school, and another from his swing cast of the _Fame_ revival. A picture from their engagement party, and one of them in the garden of the lovely B&B that Jesse had taken her to several months ago as a surprise. Another was from last summer, taken on the steps outside Lincoln Center and showing her with Jesse and Finn, their neighbour down the hall. Finn Hudson, tall and lanky and home-spun gorgeous, had swiftly become her best friend in the building – her best friend altogether, really.

Struck by a sudden thought, Rachel headed to the pantry, to make sure they still had some of those chocolate-chip cookies he loved, or whether she needed to call Jesse and ask him to pick some up on the way home.

Smiling in satisfaction as she located an unopened packet, Rachel heard the urn sound it's alarm.

Pouring her mug full, she took her chamomile tea through the dining room to the living room, but something – some sense of** wrongness** – made her stop. Clutching her mug in both hands now, Rachel slowly walked backwards, trying to pin down what had alarmed her.

Stopping in front of the photos, Rachel turned and gazed at the same photos she'd been looking at just a few minutes ago.

Rachel blinked, and looked again.

The engagement photo, and the shot of the B&B – was she imagining things, or had she disappeared from the pictures?

Stepping closer, Rachel looked again, and sighed. No, she was still there. She was just a bit blurry, that was all.

Heading into the living room, she didn't see her image waver and disappear from all the photos taken in the last three years.

"So, are you sure you and your band don't mind playing the reception?" Rachel asked.

"No problem, Rach. Granted, we don't usually do weddings, but for you we'll make an exception," Finn Hudson grinned, before taking a chocolate-chip cookie. "Lunch was great, by the way. You're such an awesome cook!"

Rachel smiled in gratification and looked down. "I just wish Jesse thought so. He always complains I'm starving him on bunny food."

Finn set down his coffee cup, and looked at her with a serious expression. "Do you realize how often you say things like that, Rach? Are you sure that you're not rushing into this whole wedding thing?"

Rachel glared at him. "Finn!"

"I'm just saying, Jesse asked you to marry him when your self-esteem was in the toilet, and you still haven't gotten it out of the bathroom. I think maybe you might be latching onto this wedding stuff because you feel that Jesse's the only thing in your life that's working."

"You're being ridiculous, Finn – I'm marrying Jesse because I love him! Alright, yes, I am in a slump career-wise, but I'm only twenty-four!" Rachel continued bracingly, "I still have lots of time left to make my mark on Broadway. There's no reason I should resign myself to simply being the helpmeet of a well-known actor."

Finn raised his eyebrows, and retorted, "Just tell me this, Rachel – would you have said yes if you'd gotten the part in that revival of _A Chorus Line_?"

"I made the call-back for _Chorus_?" Rachel muttered under her breath. "I... don't know. I can't remember."

Finn bit his lip, and took another sip of coffee, before setting it down with a tiny sigh. "Okay, back to the wedding. Remind me where your bridal registry is set up? And please tell me Jesse dropped that dumb idea about all the guests submitting pictures of their dates for approval, so he can have a properly anaesthetic wedding."

"Aesthetic, Finn; concerned with beauty or the appreciation of beauty," Rachel absently corrected. One of these days she was going to track down whoever had convinced Finn he was stupid and strangle them. There was nothing wrong or lacking with Finn's intellect, but his low self-esteem about his intelligence meant he constantly made mistakes with knowledge, particularly vocabulary.

"Okay, that."

"Just ignore that idea, Finn, he'll calm down as soon as he knows whether he got Curly in the new production of _Oklahoma!_" Rachel told him. "If he mentions it again, I'll talk him out of it. But really, Finn, thank you so much for helping me with all of this."

Finn snickered, "You can't share a bedroom for two years, and an apartment for four with my brother and not pick up a ton of this wedding stuff. I still refuse to admit that I know what the color puce looks like – I'm straight but not narrow, and puce is like, the ultimate gay knowledge or something. I'd never get a date again."

"Well that would be a shame," Rachel laughed. She stood up, and as she headed to the kitchen, she tossed over her shoulder, "Not to mention a waste! I know you'll make a very lucky woman very happy someday!"

Behind her, Finn suddenly found the contents of his empty cup fascinating, as he bit his lip and his knuckles whitened.

"So," his voice cracked, "Your registry?"

Rachel's voice was thin and soft, as she admitted, "I can't remember."

Finn turned in his chair, frowning. "Rachel? You sound kind of... well, scared."

Rachel leaned her elbows on the counter and her body slumped. "Oh, Finn. It seems like my whole world's been just a little askew since I saw that stupid bus last night."

"Bus?"

Rachel told him the whole story, and finished with, "That's not the creepiest part, Finn! I called the Department of Public Transport this morning, to try and find out who that driver was, and how he might know me – maybe he was a grad student at college with me or something - but Finn, not only is there no bus stop on this street... they told me there's **no** route 63 bus at all!"

Finn frowned. "Okay, that's creepy."

Rachel bit her lip. "And there's the photos."

Finn followed her gaze to the wall at the end of the table. He stood up and walked to the wall, surveying the photos. "Okay, so there's that one of the three of us together at Lincoln Center, and ones of you and your dads, and Jesse's stage highlights – I know he's not close to his family, but not to have a single pic of them up? Seriously? Huh, I don't recognise the role he wore that suit for – was it a college production? What's the garden – are you scouting it for your wedding?"

Rachel came up beside him, shaking like a leaf. "Finn, that suit isn't a stage role, it's our engagement photo. The garden shot is supposed to be of the two of us in the B&B he took me to for my birthday. Finn, I've looked at the photos all around the house, and except for this one of the three of us together, I no longer appear in any photo taken in the last three years!"

Finn looked down at her, concern shining in his eyes.

Rachel's feet slowed, at first imperceptibly, then markedly, as she crossed the street.

Determined not to let some silly incident keep her from her regular exercise routine, she'd gone out running as usual, reciting details about the wedding to keep herself from thinking about the bus.

Then she'd simply started reciting details about her romance with Jesse, because either she'd been dreadfully neglecting her wedding plans, or something was wrong, because she couldn't remember half the things she should know about her own wedding. Her dress was hanging in Finn's closet, so Jesse wouldn't see it, but she couldn't remember where she bought it.

Walking hurriedly, needing to get it over with, Rachel walked around the corner to her street.

And stopped dead, looking at the bus across the street from her building.

Route 63, advertising 'Need a New Life?'

Rachel took a deep breath, then another.

"It's not supposed to be there. It's some kind of scam to get people to ride on an illegal bus and take their money for fares," she muttered under her breath.

After all, it was the only rational explanation she and Finn could come up with.

"Just ignore it, and go home, and keep planning your wedding. At least you can accomplish **something** with your life."

So why weren't her feet obeying her? Why was she walking across the street to the bus, drawn as if it were magnetised and her bones were made of iron?

Why were the doors opening for her again?

The same man was behind the wheel; same 'Schuester' nametag embroidered on his uniform shirt, same blonde, tightly-curling hair. Same friendly smile.

"Are you coming with us, Rachel?"

Rachel opened her mouth to ask how he knew her name, but nothing came out. For a split second, she was terrified she'd lost her voice.

"I-"

Her nerve broke, and Rachel dashed across the street even faster than the previous night. This time, she burst through the doors at a near-dead run, before whirling to peer through the glass panels, as if they could shelter her from the truth.

The bus was gone, again.

Rachel stared into her bowl of fruit-studded granola, absently plunging the spoon into the mess again and again, and never lifting the spoon to her lips. Across the table, Jesse was digging into his bacon and eggs enthusiastically.

"Jesse? Where did we meet?"

Jesse frowned at her, chewing his bacon.

"What are you talking about Rachel? Have you been reading one of Santana's stupid Cosmo articles about testing your man or something?"

"No," Rachel replied, half-exasperated, half-pleading. "Please, Jesse, I was thinking about it in the shower this morning, and I can't remember. We met in college, didn't we?"

"Of course we did," Jesse shrugged. "You were a freshman, and you had the nerve to audition for a lead role in_ Oklahoma!_ You managed to get Ado Annie, as well! Of course, I couldn't restrict myself to a second lead, so I took it upon myself to mentor you, and you blossomed under my tutelage. You won a leading role in _Camelot_, and we had our first date at the opening night cast party."

"That's why I know I'm destined to get the role of Curly in this new Broadway production – when Mick first called me about it, you told me it was kismet – that the universe was aligning!" Shaking his head fondly, Jesse chuckled, "Even for an actress, you're quite the drama queen."

Getting up and dropping his plate and cutlery in the sink, Jesse came back to drop a kiss on the top of Rachel's head. "I'll be having dinner with Mick and Takeuchi again after the matinee, so I won't come home between performances. I won't be home until late tonight."

Rachel slumped back in her chair, her eyes dull as they followed Jesse out the door, and heard a faint "Love you!" as the door slammed.

Letting her head fall forward as she sighed, Rachel decided that when all else failed, it was time to wash the dishes.

As she scrubbed, Rachel idly watched the mounds and patterns in the bubbles. That clump near the side looked like a heart, and the red blob in the middle looked like a Rorschach inkblot.

Studying the red blob, Rachel heard a plop. Then another. Then another, and the red cloud was growing larger.

The plop sounds were drips – drips of **blood.**

Gasping in horror, Rachel's head snapped up to look at her reflection in the window, and she nearly screamed.

Her image in the window, wavering and translucent, had a three-inch gash on her forehead, a little above and to the left of her right eye.

Rachel snatched up the dishcloth and pressed it to her forehead, trying to stop the bleeding, her breath tearing in her lungs. After a long few seconds, she took the cloth away for a split second, trying to assess the rate of bleeding.

The dishcloth was clean. The only blemish to the cheerful yellow was a grey grease stain.

Rachel's gaze jumped to her reflection, and the wound was gone. The Rachel in the window was pale with fright, but she was unharmed – and had somehow faded away just a little more.

A movement in her reflection caught her eye, and Rachel stared in horror down at the street.

Not bothering to wipe the sudsy water off her hands, Rachel dashed out of the apartment – not even remembering to lock her door – and out of the building. She didn't even look for cars as she sprinted across the street to a horrifyingly familiar bus.

The doors were already open, and Schuester was standing on the second step of the entry to the bus.

"Just tell me! What do you **want**?" she cried.

Schuester simply looked at her. "We're waiting for you, Rachel."

Tears running down her face, Rachel sobbed, "**Leave me alone**! Please just go away and leave me alone!"

Schuester's friendly smile turned sad, and the bus doors closed with a hiss.

Rachel watched the bus drive away, and turn the corner, still crying.

"Rachel, I'm starting to go past 'creeped out' to 'downright scared'," Finn told her. He hadn't even touched her sugar cookies, which Rachel had previously thought would be a sign of the Apocalypse.

Rachel wrapped both hands around her mug, desperate to feel the heat sink into her finger-bones.

"I think it's death."

Finn stared at her, and Rachel thought that she'd spoken so quietly that he hadn't heard her.

"I think the bus is death."

"Why on earth would you think that, Rachel? You haven't died," Finn pointed out.

"Remember when I told you about the bus? How I saw it for the first time just after that close call with the BMW? I think... I think maybe it hit me. I think I died, and the bus is Death, trying to take me to the afterlife. It's the only thing that makes sense, Finn! The way I've been fading from the photos, the way that the bus keeps disappearing! Finn, I keep seeing my reflection bleeding, and it's **fading**. So are my memories... I can't remember how I met Jesse anymore. I can't remember how long I've known **you**."

"Rachel," Finn spoke gently, "I think maybe you're getting a little overly, here. Wedding jitters, even doubts about getting married are perfectly normal. Add in your stress about your career, and it's no wonder you're getting a little... overwrought? Is that the word?"

"Yes Finn," Rachel sighed. "That's the word."

"Your tea's gone cold. Let me make you a new cup," Finn offered, taking it from her hands and standing.

Unable to sit still, Rachel lunged to her feet and strode past Finn into the kitchen and directly to the window over the sink, her arms wrapped around herself as she stared down at the street.

Her whole body froze as she saw the bus, directly opposite the building's main doors.

Licking her lips, she tasted blood, and she absently raised a hand to her face, feeling hot thick liquid trickling from her nose. Still looking down at the street, she cried, "Finn, it's here! The bus is outside!"

Finn rushed to join her, and peered through the window. "Where? Where is it?"

Rachel looked at him in astonishment, then down at the street.

The bus was gone.

Looking at her faint reflection in the window-pane, Rachel could only just make out her own face, completely clean of blood.

"I guess it must have driven away," Rachel said dully.

Finn looked at her, his brow wrinkled, and slowly nodded. Turning away, he grabbed the full mugs off the kitchen counter and headed back to the dining table. In a remorselessly cheerful tone, he asked, "Hey, did you still want me to run lines with you for your audition?"

"What audition?"

"Um, the off-Broadway revival of _Cabaret_? It's in three days, right?"

Rachel shook her head, "No, silly, on Friday."

Finn chuckled, shaking his head. "Rachel, Friday **is** in three days."

Rachel simply blinked, and didn't bother to argue.

Rachel changed for her jog that night as usual, but couldn't bring herself to leave her home. Instead, she just sat at the kitchen table, staring at the photos she'd taken off the wall – the one of her and her dads at her high school graduation (her college graduation photo didn't show her anymore) and the one of her, Jesse, and Finn last summer, before they'd gone to see _The Importance of Being Earnest _(she'd had to all but lead Finn along by his ear before he agreed to go; he'd ended up laughing his head off all the way through, and told her later that this Oscar Wilde guy was even more sarcastic than his brother).

About the same time she would normally finish her run, Rachel sat up straight, feeling an odd shiver in the air.

She was too scared to look at her reflection.

She simply took off her engagement ring, placing it gently on the table, on top of the sealed envelope that bore Jesse's name. There were two other envelopes, for Finn and her Dads. She was very glad now that she'd updated her will six months ago, after Papa had that health scare with that lump.

She stood up, and pushed the chair back under the table, taking some time to make sure it was properly aligned. She'd spent half the afternoon cleaning after Finn left, wanting to make sure everything was spotless.

On impulse, she grabbed both the photo frames, and tucked them into her arm, holding them close as she walked out of the apartment.

She set the door to lock behind her, but didn't bother to take her keys.

Slowly and calmly, she walked across the street to the bus.

The doors were open, and Schuester waited behind the wheel.

"Are you still waiting for me?" she asked quietly.

Schuester smiled gently. "We were about to leave without you. I'm glad you decided to come aboard."

Rachel climbed the steps slowly, feeling herself grow lighter with every step. "I just realised that you can't fight what's already been decided."

Standing beside Schuester, Rachel heard a roar of a high-performance engine pass right by, and she looked out the front window to see a black BMW flash past.

Rachel looked at the bus seats, but they were all empty.

"I... I don't want to sit alone. May I stand here?"

"Of course," Schuester smiled. "If that's what you want."

With a mechanical wheeze, the doors closed, and the bus rumbled beneath her as it lurched into motion.

Rachel held onto the railing that separated the driver's seat from the bus, and clutched her photos tightly to her chest with the other arm. "Will it be a long trip?"

"Not long. Everyone else on my route has already been taken to their destination."

"I'm sorry I made you wait so long," Rachel apologized. "I've always been somewhat single-minded; I didn't want to give up my dreams of what my life could be."

"You got on the bus in the end, Rachel, that's all that matters. It's not like you won't be able to perform, after all."

Rachel let out a tired laugh. "Of course. It's the greatest stage of all, isn't it?"

Schuester smiled, and shook his head. "No, simply the first of many more to come. I think you may have the wrong idea about what this route is. You're not dead, Rachel; at least, you won't be now. This bus isn't taking you to the after life - it's taking you to a **better **life. It won't be perfect, and it won't always be easy, but it'll be fulfilling, and very happy. You had the courage to take a leap of faith, to accept what fate has given you, and now you have a second chance." The bus shuddered to a halt, the brakes giving a hissing hydraulic sigh, and Schuester smiled. "Welcome home, Rachel."

Rachel gaped at Schuester in shock, and looked through the front window. She was on a different street, full of light and life. A few steps from the bus stop, an chic cafe was still open, casually-dressed people milling in and out and around the tables on the sidewalk. Just across and down the street, a Art Deco-looking movie theatre was advertising _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_.

Directly across the street from the bus stop were several apartment buildings, comfortable and elegant looking at the same time, each of their lobbies brightly lit to show a security desk.

Her hands clenched into fists, and she looked down to find her framed photos had gone. She looked at Schuester in panic, and he reassured her, "You have new copies, waiting for you inside."

Her heartbeat thundering in her ears, Rachel gave him her best star quality smile.

"Thank you, for not giving up on me. Thank you for bringing me home."

"My pleasure, Rachel," Schuester smiled. "Don't forget – the final choice was yours. There's no such thing as a happy ending, just a whole lot of middles. But you've made your own happy middle."

Taking a deep breath, Rachel stepped off the bus.

As the bus chugged off, Rachel crossed the street, climbing the steps of the right-hand building. Pushing open the doors confidently, she smiled at the young man seated behind the security desk.

"Good evenin', Miss Berry!" the young man exclaimed, in a charming Irish accent. "How was your run?"

"Good evening, Rory," Rachel replied. "It was somewhat surprising, actually."

Walking through the small lobby, she turned left and headed to the elevators. One opened its doors as she approached, and she pressed the button for the third floor without hesitation. When the doors opened again, she strode out into the hall and turned right, passing several doors until she came to the one with the brass numbers 313.

Taking a deep breath, Rachel reached for the door handle.

"Rachel!"

Even as her eyes widened at the so-familiar voice, Rachel spun around.

Jesse looked harried as he approached her. "Rachel, I know we don't have to be off-book for another two weeks yet, but I really think it would set a good example if the two of us were as soon as possible. How are you doing with learning your lines? I know you want to be married by opening night, but that insane brother-in-law of yours would be ecstatic if you let him take over the planning."

Rachel looked down at her left hand, and sucked in a breath of shock; the flash of a single small diamond had been replaced by a square-cut ruby, with a smaller (but still bigger than before) diamond on each side, with an antique-looking setting on a carved gold band.

Now the shock had worn off a little, Rachel could sense the weightless, invisible cloud around her head... all the experiences of her new life, waiting to be remembered. She just hoped she could remember her old life too, so she would always know how lucky she was, and always appreciate her imperfectly perfect new life.

Rachel's lips opened, and the words that came from them were all the stranger for being in her voice.

"You know what Kurt's like. If I don't keep control of things myself, it'll become a bigger production than the show."

"True," Jesse snickered.

"I'd like a few more days to work from the script – what if we give it a shot at Friday's rehearsal? If that goes well, it could inspire the others to work during the weekend."

Jesse looked thoughtful, then nodded. "Sounds good. What about the songs?"

"I think Artie's still finalising the arrangements, but I have the lyrics down."

The memories were slipping inside her brain, now – she and Jesse were the male and female leads in a musical inspired by the success of _Rock of Ages_, about a group of teenagers at the height of the Grunge era of music. They hadn't managed to get the rights to any Nirvana songs, even though the show was called _Smells like Teen Spirit_. Rachel was most looking forward to performing Lisa Loeb's '_How_'.

She and Jesse had been friends since high school; in fact, Jesse had been the one to introduce her to her fiancée, back in college.

Waving at Jesse as he headed back down the hall to the stairs – he lived two floors up – Rachel smiled in anticipation as she took out her apartment key from the hidden hip pocket in her jogging pants, and unlocked the door.

Rachel didn't need the memory cloud to know which man's ring she now wore.

As she walked in to their cosy apartment, decorated in a way that managed to look smart yet invited you to put your feet up, she scanned the combined dining/living room. At the sight of the tall form bent over the table, papers scattered in front of him, Rachel smiled.

Walking over, she bent forward slightly to slip her arms around his shoulders, and kissed the back of his neck. She'd always thought he might be sensitive there, and she was right; the shudder he gave in response confirming it. He twisted in his chair to face her, and she used a knee to separate his legs so she could stand between them. He smiled and slipped an arm around her hips, openly caressing her bottom.

"So, did your run help?" Finn asked, his voice a little breathy. "How do you feel now?"

Still grinning, Rachel told him, "High on life."

Then she cupped her hand along his jaw, tilted his head up, and pressed her mouth to his in the deepest, most passionate kiss she'd ever given, in either of her lives. When she broke off from lack of air, they were both panting.

"Bedroom, **now**," she demanded.

Finn gasped, "Okay," and stood up so fast that he knocked the chair over.

END OF ACT THREE

CURTAIN

Next part... my author DVD commentary of sorts, if you're interested. But the story itself stops here.


	4. Author's commentary

AUTHOR'S NOTE: For those of you who are interested in this sort of thing, this is how this story came about:

One stinking hot summer afternoon, New Year's Eve weekend, (41 degrees Celcius!) I somehow spent around three hours on Wikipedia reading the episode synopsis for every single Twilight Zone episode. When I came across the episode _'Time and Teresa Golowitz'_ I was struck by the adaptation possibilities – especially since the original male lead was a Broadway composer, who came back to find that Teresa 'Terri' Golowitz was now a singing star and his long-time friend and collaborator - and saved the page for later.

The idea for the full-blown anthology didn't happen until I stumbled across _'Night Route'_ – where the original protagonist is too scared to take the bus to the afterlife, and is doomed to die having only lived the unhappy route. My deep-seated need for a happy ending took over, and it seemed a natural fit for Rachel, with Jesse as her fiancée and Finn's next door neighbour replacing the protagonist's mother.

At that point, my sense of symmetry decided that all three characters should appear in both stories, and put Jesse in the role of the Grim Reaper in _'Time'_ (who was originally the Prince of Darkness in the show). After that, it seemed unfair not to give my third major character a story of his own, and since I already had 2000's and 1980's era episodes, I looked back through the original series, with an eye to something Rachel and Finn could 'guest-star' in.

Since I normally can't **stand** Jesse, I was originally going to pick one of the downer ending stories for him, but when I came across the bittersweet _'Ring-a-ding Girl'_, about a famous movie star returning to their hometown, it seemed to fit just right, with Rachel's ex-lover substituting for the protagonist's sister. Ironically, I ended up cutting the titular ring altogether; a gift from the movie star's hometown fan club, it gave her visions of her sister, urging her to return home – and was later given to her sister after the plane crash, sooty and cracked. (I ended up putting the pendant in as a substitute about five minutes before I sent in the rough draft.) That also inspired me to put a plane crash into _'Time'_, to explain Finn's approaching death (originally, it was simply a heart attack from ill health, as the character was in his late fifties), since the time gap would be around fifteen years instead of forty.

Also: I originally intended to call the second act 'Time flies by as the pendulum swings' (a mis-remembered lyric from Linkin Park's _"In the End"_). I changed it about a quarter-way through, after I'd written the final scenes for act two and three. Given there were no pendulums involved, it seemed a bit silly. Since Finn is almost literally given the time of his life, and ends up giving someone else a new lease on a bright future, it seemed a better title. I thought about changing the act three title to a song title as well, but I like _'The Last Bus Home'_ too much. Not only does Rachel literally catch the last bus – her very last chance - it hints to both what Rachel thinks is the destination of the bus, and foreshadows where it will actually take her.

As for the three 'musicals' mentioned; I was wearing my Rock of Ages T-shirt when I wrote the ending for 'LBH', so I thought of a spiritual sequel for Rachel and Jesse to star in. By the way, I picked the title because of an old episode of the TV show _iCold Case/i_ – the episode _'Detention'_ was originally meant to be named 'All Apologies' after a Nirvana song, but the production team couldn't get the rights (but someone must have changed their minds, because the s5 opener used only Nirvana music!). I thought it made a nice mirror to 'RoA', which is named after a Def Leppard song, even though they couldn't get the rights to use any of the group's music in the show (seriously; when I saw the show last year, in the pre-show announcements they mentioned 'in case of fire, please don't start singing Def Leppard's 'Pyromania', because we couldn't get the rights. Just head for your nearest signposted exit').

Oh, and if the bit in 'ToYL' about the passenger on a plane claiming to see a gremlin sabotaging the wing sounds familiar, but you can't place it, it's actually from the original series episode 'Nightmare at 20,000 feet', and was remade as part of '_Twilight Zone: the movie'_. The character was played by William Shatner (Star Trek) and John Lithgow (Third Rock from the Sun) respectively, only in those cases the plane landed safely... but his story was backed up when the mechanics found massive damage to the wing/engines afterwards. (hums the TZ theme).

Points to anyone who recognised the character of Bobby Singer from _Supernatural_, and The Old Haunt bar (the setting for the s3 ep 'Last Call') from _Castle_.

Writing these was so much fun that I've decided to try it again – with the only episode to appear in all three eras. 'Dead man's shoes' was remade as 'Dead woman's shoes' in the eighties, and 'Dead man's eyes' in the Noughties, and will soon (err... eventually) be adapted into another of my fandoms.


End file.
